[ It started with a werewolf marking the bar counter as his territory, old school style.
Or with a zombie waving hi to a mummy after all but its middle finger had decomposed.
Or with Cthulhu and the krakens having it out over the vodka bill. ]
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She's shooting ice magic from her staff too to freeze everything.]
May the Dread Wolf take you!
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Uh.
Welp. She stops long enough to look at these werewolves (after making sure nothing was going to come her way.]
Oh, I didn't mean you-- I meant the ones that were trying to hurt everyone.
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[Scowling as one of the culprits flew past him, having been punched squarely in the jaw, Raistlin tried his best to maneuver towards the bartender amidst the bar's patrons. Perhaps, if he were lucky, none of them would bother a wizard in black robes.]
[But since when had Raistlin been lucky?]
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Spare chaaaaange?
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[Except Raistlin was so irritated he thought he would vomit. Throwing up was never too far from his agenda, though.]
[Snarling viciously at the pervert thief, Raistlin moved to swing his staff at the skeleton - if it connected, it would send the skeleton flying, as the staff magically enhanced Raistlin's strength by more than double.]
What would a skeleton need spare change for? [He all but hissed. He was not fazed by the animated bones at all; he would create far worse in the future.]
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...except for the part where the staff seems to have stuck in one of the holes between its ribs, leaving the poor (?) thing dangling at the weapon's end.
Like a mop, really.
Of doom. ]
...for... sherry?
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